


getting comfortable

by hellsreluctantheir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Queer Sam Winchester, Stanford Era (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellsreluctantheir/pseuds/hellsreluctantheir
Summary: Maybe it wasn't that immediate. Jess had still been around after that night, and it wasn't like he and Sam had gotten together immediately. But looking back that was the bit that stood out.After that it was seeing each other at another party, running into each other at the library, Sam casually asking if he wanted to get lunch on a study break, Brady equally casually asking if Sam would want to come to his dorm room and watch a movie. And that same movie night when some dumb joke made Sam laugh so hard that Brady leant over and kissed him until he stopped.It became a little less casual, and a little more deliberate after that.-A Jess/Brady role-swap AU.
Relationships: Real Tyson Brady/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	getting comfortable

Looking back, it felt like Brady lost Jess and gained Sam in the same night.

Some party, right at the start of sophomore year, and Jess had come back after Summer with an edge and vicious smile she hadn't had the year before. Familiar, but something had changed, and she was partying harder, and rolling her eyes whenever Brady tried to ask her about it, and he'd stumbled into her at some frat party where she was being followed by some kind of behemoth. This dude so tall that he made the whole room look slightly off, because people just should be that tall. Scrawny, still, just... big.

Jess, already looking frustrated, saw him and said, "Oh, hey, it's Brady, you guys have so much in common, you should be best friends and both stop bothering me." And she'd shoved this guy in Brady's direction and disappeared into the crowd.

And the guy had watched her go, sighed, turned to Brady and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Sam."

"Brady," he'd said, accepting the handshake.

Maybe it wasn't that immediate. Jess had still been around after that night, and it wasn't like he and Sam had gotten together immediately. But looking back that was the bit that stood out.

After that it was seeing each other at another party, running into each other at the library, Sam casually asking if he wanted to get lunch on a study break, Brady equally casually asking if Sam would want to come to his dorm room and watch a movie. And that same movie night when some dumb joke made Sam laugh so hard that Brady leant over and kissed him until he stopped.

It became a little less casual, and a little more deliberate after that.

Brady got ready to go home for Thanksgiving, and Sam didn't. Late one night, tracing his fingers along the veins in Sam's forearm, he asked, "Are you out to your family?" They didn't acknowledge the silent is that why you're not going home that was asked alongside it.

"No," Sam said, voice quiet, nose pressed into Brady's hair. Even quieter. "I'm not, but they don't- We haven't spoken since before college."

Brady pulled him closer.

He went home for Christmas, but stayed for spring break, and he was biting his lip at flights around the date dorms close for Summer and wondering. Sam already had an apartment he was moving into, a shitty, one-bedroom that was probably far enough away from campus to cause an issue, but Sam just chirpily referred to as, "Within budget." Brady was already already feeling guilty for not thinking about this sooner, if they could've got a better closer place if he hadn't already been moving into a house with some friends, if he should've broken that promise to move in with Sam. If he should be staying for the Summer. He'd asked if Sam wanted to come to stay with his family, but Sam still got cagey about the fact that Brady's parents knew he existed.

Sam, ever practical, just shook his head at him. "Do you want to go see your family?"

"Yes," Brady said.

"Then go," Sam told him, with a kiss to seal it.

Brady sighed. "What if I come back a little early?" he asked. "My place won't be ready yet, would it be alright if I stayed with you for a couple weeks?"  
Sam's smile answered the question.

But when Brady did come back, cramming his clothes into the little room left in the apartment, Sam was unhappy. Not at Brady, at least it didn't feel like it. Like, Sam was pleased to see him, he was just distracted, and frustrated, and edgy. Brady arrived on a Thursday and then by seven on Friday evening Sam had disappeared, and wasn't answering phone calls.

He got home sometime approaching dawn, still looking angry, with the stink of stale beer clinging to him, and piles of worn, folded twenties in his pockets. It took Brady a few minutes to realise he wasn't as drunk as he smelled, though he definitely was drunk.

They fought, and they'd fought before but Sam had always wanted to communicate. This time he was recalcitrant, and stubborn. An hour of trying not to wake the neighbours later, and he still hadn't even told Brady where he'd been for ten hours.

"Would it be better if I didn't stay here?" he asked, finally.

Sam flinched. "Do you want to go?"

"That's not what I asked."

Sam nodded, swallowed, the mulish look still on his face. "I gotta take a shower," he said, like he expected Brady to be gone by the time he was done.

When he did come out of the shower, in damp hair and sweatpants, Brady was sitting on the shitty couch he'd help haul from where Sam found it on the sidewalk, curled up in a pile of blankets they’d found at a Goodwill. The anger wasn't there anymore; instead he looked stricken. Came to the couch, crawled into Brady's arms, and whispered apologies into his neck.

"I don't want to go," Brady said, softly, a little later. "But I want to help you and I can't if you don't talk to me."

Sam took a deep shuddering breath. "There's this dive bar a couple towns over," he said. "Just shitty beer and people making bets on pool, so I went to play a few games."

The confession seemed strikingly out of character, Brady tried to keep his tone neutral. "You left to hustle pool?" At Sam's affirmative noise he continued. "So, what's going on? Do you need the money?"

"No," Sam said, quickly. "No, I mean- I'll use it, but I don't need..." He sighed, wet eyelashes fluttering against Brady's neck. "It's what we did."

And slowly, as the sun rose, a story came spilling out about growing up in motel rooms and back rooms at bars. Of winning cash playing pool, and darts, learning how much to stumble and slur without overdoing it. Driving hours between towns, being the new kid in every school, right up until he left for college. Brady could read novels into the number of things Sam still wasn't telling him, but it was the most he'd spoken about how he grew up ever. So he didn't push, he just rubbed Sam's back and let him talk.

"I guess it's just. It's my junior year," Sam said softly. "It's been two years, and I just..."

"You miss them," Brady said, when it seemed clear Sam wouldn't continue.

"Yeah," Sam said.

Brady didn't let it get far past Christmas before confirming when Sam's lease ended, and at Sam's quizzical look saying, "Well, you don't want to renew this place, right? I'm not going all the way to campus from here every day next year."

Sam's smile was bright, and easy. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"I'm not asking," Brady said, slipping his hands into Sam's back pockets. "I'm assuming. It's very rude of me, but am I wrong?"

So it went.

Senior year, and they were in one side of a rundown duplex, but it was theirs. With Sam's shitty side-walk couch, and dents in the walls from moving Brady's heavy-ass bed frame, and textbooks scattered everywhere. And Sam was considering coming home for Thanksgiving, finally meeting Brady's parents, and it was Halloween, and he still wouldn't wear a costume, but he came to the party, and let Brady toast to his victories, and he smiled.

Brady woke up to him getting up to go to the bathroom, and rolled over into the warm spot he left behind to keep dozing.

Only he wasn't getting up to to the bathroom; there was a thud and muffled voices, and when Brady got up to find him having a hushed conversation with a stranger in a leather jacket, illuminated by the street lamp shining through the window.

“Sam?” he asked, still a little hoarse from sleep, and the bar. “What’s going on?”

“Brady,” Sam turned towards him, a look on his face Brady had never seen before. “This is Dean.” He swallowed, hard enough for Brady to see. “My brother.”

“College boy has a roommate,” Dean said, giving Brady a brief once over before looking back to Sam. “How domestic.”

And that was enough to spark something in Sam, to straighten his spine and have him striding across the room to sling an arm around Brady’s waist. “He’s my boyfriend, actually.” His voice was decisive; Brady could feel his heart skipping beats beneath his palm.

That knocked Dean back for a moment - he gave Brady a slightly more thorough look but didn’t comment. “Well, tell your boyfriend I need to borrow you.”  
It became clear Sam wasn’t budging, and Dean wasn’t thrilled. There was obvious intent in words, “Dad’s been on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a couple of days.”

Sam’s frustration couldn’t be clearer as he shoved clothes into his backpack. Their apartment was not big enough that Dean couldn’t see them from where he leant against the bench in the kitchen - shit he could probably hear them. But, as much burning curiosity filled Brady’s stomach towards Sam’s brother, Dean was not who he was worried about.

“You know you don’t have to go,” he said.

Sam shot him a brief smile. “It’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t,” Brady said. “I said you didn’t have to go. Three years, they didn’t even call?”

Sam sighed. “I know. But it’s my dad, y’know. And hey, Dean knows about you now, maybe I’ll be on a roll and when we find dad, I’ll tell him too.”

“I could not give two shits what your dad thinks of me,” Brady said, earning a genuine smile that time.

“Look,” Sam said, gripping Brady by the hips and pulling him close, “It’s just a day or two. We’ll find him, and I’ll be back for my interview on Monday.”

“Good,” Brady said, hands sliding to the sides of Sam’s neck. “See, I’m planning to be some hotshot lawyer’s kept boy in a few years, and I’d hate to have to find a new candidate now.”

Sam laughed at that, and said he’d call. They exchanged I love yous, and Brady kissed him goodbye, and if he’d known it was going to be the last time he’d see Sam he never would have let go. But he didn’t, so he watched them drive away in Dean’s loud car, and went back to bed, and sent one last text message that said ‘u better fucking call’ and went back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://hellsreluctantheir.tumblr.com/).


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